


The Dean Winchester Appreciation Society

by dragoneyes



Series: The Prince and The Dragon [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crack, Dragon!Cas, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Interspecies Romance, M/M, prince!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 12:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10719144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragoneyes/pseuds/dragoneyes
Summary: Castiel still finds human behavior baffling – and Dean's tendency towards self-deprecation is the most baffling of all.





	The Dean Winchester Appreciation Society

**Author's Note:**

> We now have [fanarts](https://topieornottopie.tumblr.com/post/152128086549/fan-art-for-the-lovely-fic-the-prince-and-the) from the lovely topieornottopie! Go give them some love!

Castiel wasn't entirely sure what constituted "beautiful" for humans.

If inquired about it, each and every one of them would list different requirements for anything or anyone to achieve that status.

At the beginning, when Dean insisted for the first time that he should try to at least be friendly towards the other inhabitants of his castle, he had investigated the matter with Jo. She had always been the Knight most favorably inclined towards him, and so she seemed like the logical choice to appease his curiosity.

The answer he received was something like this:

_"Ahah! You know! Things that are pretty!"_

...which was not helpful in the slightest.

Castiel still had no idea what constituted "beautiful" for humans, but he was sure that, no matter what the other members of Dean's species thought, the prince was the most beautiful creature the dragon had ever seen in his life.

His appreciation came not from the way the sun kissed the other's hair and lit it alive with golden flecks, nor from the way his full lips curved in a shy upward bow while he slept at Castiel's side.

It came from the persistent silver pulse of the man's awe-inspiring soul, which filtered through his freckled skin even when the dragon was trying his best not to stare at it with his second sight. It was remarkably difficult not to notice the way it twirled around Dean like an aura, or the way it seemed to reach out for him every time that Castiel brushed his fingers against the other's cheek.

They were laying in Dean's bed, the sun having come up not long before, and the latter still had to wake up.

At first Castiel thought it might be his dragon physiology that made him able to function with fewer hours of sleep, but he could hear the distinctive sound of humans busily passing through the corridor at the other side of the room's closed door, so he came to the conclusion that it was just Dean that liked to laze about when allowed to.

Watching the way the other's lips parted to let out a breathy sigh, the dragon wondered if he should try to initiate some kind of gesture of affection: when they clarified how they wanted their relationship – this, he learned, was the proper word to use for what they shared – to pan out, Dean had expressed his need for physical contact quite clearly, and, while Castiel still had to completely grasp what was allowed to him, he didn't mind indulging his hoard-mate's needs.

It was still a bit bizarre to him, that humans expressed their appreciation towards one other by leaning their fangs so close to their beloved's skin. Lips were certainly not a thick enough protection to assuage any kind of queasiness that could come from it.

He knew firsthand that the press of mouth against mouth was pleasurable in the body he currently resided – Dean had seen that he learned that lesson in bright vivid details – but he wondered how it was that the first human partaking in such gestures decided that it would be a good idea to apply one's snout to the delicate skin of someone else's neck in order to show their affection.

"Dean…" he murmured, voice soft and gentle while he observed his hoard-mate's reactions.

A sleepy mumble followed his quiet call, the only living piece of his hoard shuffling closer under the blankets to snuggle against Castiel's side.

"Dean, may I kiss you?"

Green eyes peered at him through half-closed lids, his human's fogged mind taking a few instants to fully understand what was being asked out of him.

"Humm…" a yawn broke his answer before he could complete it, and then he pushed himself on an elbow as he started again "...you don't have to ask every time..."

"I didn't want to startle you," Castiel earnestly replied, receiving an amused chuckle in return.

"Dude, I clearly remember asking for them to begin with."

The press of lips against lips was still as pleasant as the dragon remembered, although it really made him wish he could coo aloud his appreciation in this body. He still tried to, but it came out more like a soft rumble in the back of his throat than anything he could produce with his snout.

Dean seemed to understand anyways, because he pushed Castiel back against the pillows and licked his way into his mouth.

The kiss was deep but lazy, both of them taking their time to enjoy being close to each other after ten days passed apart, and, by the time the prince pried his lips away to follow the line of his jaw, the dragon was huffing a short breath of amusement at his hoard-mate's need for attention.

"I do believe you mentioned having duties to attend to in the morning?" he pointed out, indulgence in his eyes, peering at Dean as he made his way down to press his mouth above Castiel's heart.

"I don't feel like it."

"Are they duties you can actually afford to avoid?" the dragon chuckled in amusement when the human's lips pursed in displeasure at the reminder.

"I wish!"

Castiel should really not find his hoard-mate's disgruntled expression so adorable. It made him want to pick Dean up in his paws and hide him in his nest. To wrap his tail around him and protect him from the threats of the outside world.

The prince had agreed to indulge his need to see him at least once every few days in a place that the dragon deemed safe and protected, and so far it had done wonders in quieting the constant feeling of looming doom that he used to bear before their fight.

He felt relaxed and more keen on letting the human out of his sight, knowing that even if they weren't together at all times, Dean would come back to him without fail.

"I don't get my dad," the prince continued while he reluctantly pulled away from Castiel's body. "First he wants me to attend every council since I was thirteen; then he decides that Sammy should take my place; and now suddenly he wants the both of us to be present at the same time."

The dragon watched him shuffle off the bed and pull some fresh clothes on with sharp, annoyed moves. His gaze lingered on the silvery tendrils of the other's soul, watching them curl restlessly at the edge of his physical body in a sign of frustration, and he made his way towards him to rest a hand on his harm.

"I mean, I get that he was angry when he found out about you and he didn't trust me to do my duty properly," Dean continued with a sigh, shoulders relaxing under the welcome touch, "but if he doesn't feel like that anymore why keep bothering Sam with this stuff? He has a lot to do already with the Knights without adding another job to his workload."

"Perhaps you should talk with him about it," Castiel suggested.

He had known even before it happened that his hoard-mate would wince at those words, so he pressed on before he could hear a protest in return.

"The reason we had our disagreement – the reason why we fought at all and parted so violently – was because we both assumed things of one another and we never discussed our arrangement in details," he gently coaxed him.

"You keep saying that your father lost his trust in you, but from what you told me so far, he never stated such a thing: he seems to have his reasons for his behavior – that is true – and yet you keep guessing what those reasons are, rather than confront him upfront and ask for an explanation."

He could tell that Dean wasn't completely convinced by his argument, his soul squirming and retreating inside his body for just an instant before its edges went back to curling in unhappiness.

"I don't know…" he finally frowned, with the hint of a shrug, "We're not really...we never do _that_."

"Your father must be at least used to openly talk with your mother – from what I saw, she doesn't strike me as the type that would accept anything less – so I don't see why he should not do the same with you," Castiel replied, making sure to keep his tone encouraging and quiet.

For a few instants Dean looked torn: his gaze shifted down and sideways, looking at an empty corner of the room, and his tongue swept out of his mouth to lick his dried lips. There were creases of uncertainty between his eyes, and he felt once again tense under the dragon's fingers.

"Maybe you're right…" the prince finally conceded with a deep sigh, before turning his eyes back on him.

"I...I'll try…" he shyly added when he saw the pleased expression on the dragon's face at his concession.

"It's not like it can get more confusing than it already is."

With a satisfied hum, Castiel leaned in to press a kiss against his lips, enjoying the way his hoard-mate let out a soft sigh even at that brief contact. He was slowly learning what Dean liked, when he would welcome touch, and when instead a lighter approach was required.

Weirdly, the same rules didn't seem to apply when he was in this human body and when he was instead in his normal form. In the latter's case, the prince didn't seem to have any qualms, accepting every gesture of affection between the two of them; in the former's case he was harder to approach, uncomfortable if there was anyone around to watch their interaction.

He didn't look ashamed – or Castiel would have mentioned it – but it was clear Dean still felt a need to present a certain image to other people that the dragon didn't completely understand.

Humans were so complicated at times, feeling so many contradicting things, seldom saying what they exactly thought. Castiel was starting to suspect that they were so wrapped in their doubts that they themselves weren't fully aware of what their minds required of them.

With dragons it was simpler.

If a dragon wanted to do something, they would; if they didn't, they wouldn't.

Perhaps it was because, as a rule, they never lived in groups: it was not uncommon for a pair to share a mating nest to lay their eggs and raise their hatchlings, but territories and hoards were always kept fiercely separated even in those cases.

They were not strangers to friendliness – Castiel himself and Gryblilkalmyel were proof of that – but meetings of more than two or three adult members of their kind at the same time were almost unheard of.

Maybe it was due to humans' tendency to mingle in large groups, coupled with their tiny and frail bodies – always needing to make sure not to cause useless fights – but they seemed constantly aware of how they presented themselves to other members of their species.

"I'm going then," Dean's words brought him back from his musing, "are you going to stay here?"

"No, I don't think so…" the dragon hummed, eying the window: the weather seemed nice enough, and being cooped in a nest that wasn't his own always made him a bit restless in the long run.

Perhaps he could visit Impala.

She was a mild-natured and friendly mare, and she wouldn't require of him any kind of small talk in the same way the other inhabitants of the castle would: he didn't mind when his hoard-mate recounted the happenings of the current day to him, but he found himself completely uninterested when anyone else did the same.

"Then remember to put some clothes on," the prince chuckled. "You already favorably impressed enough maids the last time, without needing to add any more people to that list."

Clothes were _annoying_.

Warm, but still annoying.

"Very well," he sighed in acquiescence, conceding to himself that at least the way Dean's lips quirked upwards in amusement at his disgruntled tone would be worth the inconvenience.

"I'll see you at lunch then."

After a last kiss of goodbye, Castiel was left to retrieve his tunic and pants from the previous day from where they had been laying in a haphazard heap at the feet of the bed, and he carefully put them on.

According to Dean the fabric was high-quality and soft compared to what the average person could afford, but the sensation of it sliding over his skin was still somewhat foreign to him: scales neither were as sensitive, nor they needed to be covered at all times, and sometimes his mind seemed to forget that the ever-present feeling of shifting clothes against his body was not caused by any kind of imminent threat.

Once left the room, he made his way downstairs.

As the sun had been up for at least an hour, the corridors were busy with servants scurrying about to take care of their duties.

In the months since he first learned how to morph his body, he was invited to the castle enough times that he could now recognize most of them, if not by name – which he was not particularly interested in finding out anyways – at least by their physical appearance.

He knew that the young boy with curly black hair and light blue soul that he often saw running back and forth in the courtyard, was used by the other servants to deliver things from one side of the castle to the other.

He knew that the old maid that kept her hair in a tight bun at the top of her head, only left the second floor of the keep to eat and sleep because her right knee ached and she tended to limp when she thought that no-one was watching her.

He knew that one of the younger maids from the first floor, the one with a freckled soul – like Dean's but in shades of red and purple – and excited brown eyes, often left her duties half-done and to be picked up at a later time, because she liked to chatter with the young boy with the sky-colored soul.

Castiel noticed all these things, but even so he still felt no need to become further acquiescence with any of them.

He cataloged each and every of their quirks in case they became relevant at a later time, but there was no desire in him to befriend other humans.

For one thing, they were much too loud for his liking.

He could understand their constant productivity – they, after all, needed a great deal more preparation to survive bad weather and avoid starvation than dragons did – but he saw no reason why they should constantly try to engage him in conversations he cared nothing about.

If Dean were around, he would bear with it because it was obvious from the expression on his face, that the human was pleased whenever Castiel was friendly towards people he considered part of his family, but when his hoard-mate was busy elsewhere, he would much rather be left alone – which explained why he felt much more comfortable in the stables, with the sole company of the castle's horses.

Impala was nice, and quiet, and easy to read.

Her moods were simple and familiar, consistent with what he felt himself on a regular basis, and there was no need for him to be constantly aware of how he presented himself: _her_ instincts were good enough to realize he was no threat to her even without assuaging her fears with words.

It wasn't unusual for him to visit her, so when he took a step inside the stables, the young man that took care of the horses only sent him a curious glance to ascertain the newcomer's identity, before going back to his work.

After picking an apple from the bucket that was always kept around for that purpose, he reached the mare in a few long strides. Her nostrils flared when he moved closer, and her head tilted to take a better look at him, but as soon as she recognized him, she gave a soft nicker of greeting.

"Hello," Castiel hummed back, offering the fruit. It was happily accepted and Impala didn't waste even a second before sinking her teeth into the juicy flesh that was being handed out to her.

"Dean was busy this morning, so he couldn't come."

Impala didn't seem to mind, content enough to have someone that she recognized as Dean's friend bribing her with food and gentle strokes on her neck.

When the apple was gone from his hand, he pulled an unused stool closer, and sat next to the low enclosure to allow the mare to easily nudge him and catch his attentions if she so desired. Dark eyes watched him move, Impala's pointy ears twitching to follow the sounds he made, and, as soon as Castiel found a comfortable position at her side, a warm nose gently bumped the side of his head.

The dragon wondered if the mare would be so affectionate if he were in his original body. Normally horses weren't positively impressed by his huge body and wide wings – he really couldn't fault them for it either, considering the difference in size between them – but according to Dean, Impala was very brazen compared to the rest of her species, and she might recognize his smell before her flight response kicked in and prompted her to run for her life.

If she became used to him in his normal form, would Dean allow him to take her out on a stroll?

Certainly she couldn't be taking enough fresh air: she was an old mare, seldom used for patrolling or long trips, and, from what the dragon had seen so far, the longest she was outside was when the prince decided to enjoy her company himself.

Castiel refused to ride her – it felt weird and wrong when he had perfectly good legs and wings to assist him – but he wouldn't mind taking a walk with her when he was his dragon self: it would give him an excuse to leave the cramped space of the castle's walls for a short time and enough distraction to keep him from worrying about distance separating him from his hoard-mate.

He would ask Dean for his opinion on the matter later.

"—are you serio—"

"I know!"

"But it—are you sure?"

The dragon blinked, his head tilting sideways instinctively to listed to the voices coming from the entrance. Impala's stall was far back in the barn – the others belonging to the horses that were taken out more often than she was – and he couldn't quite see who was talking from where he was.

He recognized one of them as belonging to the boy that took care of the stables, but the other was unfamiliar to him. It sounded like a girl of about his age, loud and clear, and excited to share whatever she had come to tell him.

"—and Prince Dean had _that_ look on his face, I tell you!"

"Ssshhh!"

Giving a last stroke to Impala's neck, Castiel slowly pulled himself back on his feet, silently making his way closer. He kept himself safely out of sight, not wanting them to interrupt their discussion now that he knew they were talking about his hoard-mate, and waited for them to continue.

" _He_ is in there!"

The dragon couldn't be completely sure, but considering that he was the only one currently in the barn, the boy must be talking about him now. He had no idea why his presence would be of any interest to them: aside from Dean's family and a few selected Knights, no-one knew that he wasn't human, so he failed to understand why him being there would be of any relevance to their discussion.

"Oh!" the girl sounded even more excited now, "Did _he_ have the same look?"

"How would I know? The guy's face always looks the same to me!"

This seemed to be a common pattern when it came to Castiel's interaction with humans. As much as he tried to emulate the way they expressed their emotions, he seemed to always fall short for some reason.

He knew how basic expressions worked: he knew how much he should quirk his lips upwards to make a smile; he knew how much he should bend them downwards to show his displeasure; and he knew how much his forehead should crease to show a frown; but, for all the effort he put into it, they still seemed to make humans uncomfortable more times than not.

Dean had explained to him that it was the way Castiel's face showed the proper reaction but he didn't quite look like he actually felt any of the emotions behind it.

The dragon was not sure he could fake any investment in other humans while at the same time remembering which facial expression was used to convey which emotion. His snout didn't allow for much movement in that regard, and he often forgot that his hoard-mate's people had a lot more muscles to juggle at the same time.

"I swear, you men…" the girl let out an exasperated huff, as if she had this conversation before, "It's like you can't catch the littlest clue."

"If it bothers you so much, you can go check yourself!"

"Oh no, that would be against the spirit of the group!"

Castiel tilted his head in confusion: _what_ group?

They still seemed to be talking about him and Dean – although the dragon was somewhat unsure about the specifics of the discussion – but it was difficult for him to fathom why any kind of organized gathering of people could be involved.

His musing was interrupted by a demanding neigh coming from the back of the stable, too soft for the two humans to hear. Impala seemed to be displeased by his absence and quite done with the lack of petting on his part.

With a few silent steps, Castiel made his way back to her, picking another apple from the bucket on his way there and offering it to her as an apology.

When she happily sank her teeth in the sweet treat, the dragon let his mind wander again. From his current position he couldn't hear the rest of the discussion that was being held in front of the barn, but, while a small part of him felt a bit prickled that he was interrupted while he was gathering new information, he couldn't fairly say that he was completely bothered by it.

If it was something that concerned his hoard-mate, he would just have to ask him directly.

Although…

Watching with a frown as Impala took in her mouth the last piece of fruit, he wondered if that would be of any help.

There was still the possibility that the "group" they had mentioned was not something Dean knew about. His hoard-mate was insistent that he trusted implicitly any of the castle's inhabitants, but that didn't mean they necessarily earned it.

What if the prince was just too kind of soul and unable to recognize if there were people planning in secret to do him wrong?

Castiel might not completely consider Dean his property anymore, but that didn't mean he would stand by and see him hurt when he could just as easily find out if the other was in any kind of danger.

With a last stroke to Impala's neck, silently conveying his apology for having to cut his attentions short once again, he moved back towards the entrance of the barn. From the sound of it, the boy and the girl were still in deep discussion, their voices raising to emphasize certain points before dropping again to a whisper.

"—then you should tell the others at this evening's reunion."

"What reunion?" the dragon asked as he finally stepped out into their field of vision.

Two pair of alarmed eyes immediately focused all their attention on him, and there was a long moment in which no-one spoke, the two young humans looking uncomfortable and fidgety under Castiel's silent scrutiny.

Their souls were swirling in distress, making the dragon's eyes narrow ever so slightly in suspicion: they wouldn't look so nervous if they weren't hiding something dangerous, would they?

He took a careful sniff at the air, and sure enough the tangy smell of fear was beginning to spread around them, but there was also something else: it was familiar, smoother in consistency – sweeter – and it brought to his mind the beloved image of his hoard-mate blushing and grinning with his eyes bright while his hand rubbed the back of his neck.

Were they...embarrassed?

Tilting his head as he watched the two shuffle their weight around from one foot to the other, he took this new information into consideration: embarrassment didn't seem like the kind of thing one would feel when plotting something that could bring harm to someone else.

Guilt was far more likely and Castiel could sniff no smell that would indicate anything of the sort.

"It's nothing…" the boy finally began, his voice a bit hesitant, as if he were still trying to find a justification for what the dragon had heard.

"It was just gossip!" the girl was quick to interrupt him, evidently having recovered from her distressed state far more quickly than Castiel expected her to.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we really need to go," she continued, voice becoming more sure as she went on with her attempt at justifying her presence there, "I just came to retrieve Dave, but we're really needed elsewhere now."

She didn't leave him time to reply, grabbing her friend by the wrist and dragging him along back from where she had come, her stride brisk and long in a way that made it clear she was trying to get away from him as quickly as possible without breaking into an outright run.

The dragon didn't stop them – their reticence at speaking making it obvious that he would not receive a straight answer from them. He still, however, felt somewhat curious about the partial discussion he had overheard.

Castiel might not be interested in humans' matters, but it seemed that the situation warranted further investigation on his part.

  
******

  
"Cas!"

A pair of familiar arms wrapped around his middle, soon followed by the feeling of Dean's forehead pressing against the back of his neck, and a warm sigh brushed his skin.

He had heard the prince making his way closer, recognizing his steps even with his back turned towards his hoard-mate, and he turned his head to peer at the mess of light brown hair sticking in every direction above his shoulder.

"Hello, Dean," he hummed a greeting in return, pausing for an instant in consideration, before carefully taking a step back to lean against the prince's chest. It earned him a sound of approval and the other's arms tightened their hold around him.

"Is everything all right?"

It was unusual for his hoard-mate to search physical comfort so openly when they weren't safely hidden in the privacy of his chambers and, while it didn't necessarily mean that something grievous had happened, it also was uncommon enough to justify further inquire.

"Yeah...I-I don't know about that..." Dean replied, uncertainty making him stutter, before his tone took a hint of hopefulness, "I think so…?"

"Did you follow my advice?" Castiel asked, turning in the other's embrace to take a proper look at his face: there was some agitation making the green flecks swirl in tight spirals all over the silver base of his soul, but its bright light wasn't muted by negative emotions, nor the lines of his mouth and forehead were pinched in displeasure.

"Let's talk about that later," the prince interrupted, evidently still fully digesting whatever discussion had taken place between him and his father. "I was thinking we could pack something for lunch and go take a walk outside…"

...where there was no-one who could listen on them, the dragon concluded.

Considering his morning encounter, he wasn't particularly inclined on denying his hoard-mate's request.

"As you wish," he conceded, watching with an appreciative hum as Dean's soul lit up with gratefulness, and he obediently entwined his fingers with the other's when he felt them brush against his hand.

  
******

  
The spot chosen by his hoard-mate was just beyond the borders of the lower town, close enough that they could still see the small houses marking its outskirt, but far enough that they wouldn't be bothered by any passerby unless they were specifically searching for them.

"I really _need_ to make some kind of official announcement about you," Dean commented while he gestured for the dragon to sit under the shadow of a large ash tree standing nearby.

"Are we talking about my human self or the dragon one?" Castiel replied while he gently tugged at his hoard-mate's hand to make him sit as well.

"Both," the prince clarified, "that way you could just turn back whenever you want instead of being stuck in that body."

"I don't mind."

The dragon wasn't entirely sure why the other would be bothered by something like that: it didn't particularly irritate him aside from the overall hyper-sensitivity of the human skin and the lack of wings, but Dean having pondered on it – enough that he was considering taking advantage of his princely authority to make it more easy for him to morph back and forth at will – seemed a bit too much.

"I do," the prince huffed, his lips pursing in an expression that Castiel was fairly sure he had seen before on a human hatchling when their parents were scolding them.

"I like your lizard self: it's comfy to sleep on. If we didn't need to keep your human self and your dragon self separated, you could have morphed back right now."

Well then.

Castiel certainly wasn't going to contest _that_ point.

"I could do that anyway," he offered, but he wasn't surprised when he saw his hoard-mate shake his head in return.

"It's fine," Dean sighed, leaning closer until their shoulders were pressed together, "I have to make your friendly status official before even starting to address the 'being in a relationship' part of it anyway."

With a noncommittal sound of understanding, the dragon watched as his hoard-mate pulled some bread and cured meat out of his satchel: the prince didn't like eating elaborate food in general, and he tended to be very practical when it came to having a meal outside of the castle's wall, even when it was a relaxed affair like in the current occasion, rather than a necessity caused by a long horseback journey through the kingdom.

"How did the discussion with your father go?" Castiel asked, taking half a loaf for himself before giving the rest back. He didn't technically need to have any food at the moment – dragons ate less often than humans did, their bodies being able to use _everything_ that passed through them rather than return part of it back as waste – but he also knew that Dean didn't particularly enjoy eating on his own.

The dragon didn't mind take a few bites, if it served to make his hoard-mate happy.

"It could have been worse?" the other carefully replied, the beginning of a wince pulling the lines around his mouth in an uncertain line. For a moment his soul curled up on itself, silvery tendrils retreating tightly against his body as if he instinctively refused to address anything that implied some kind of emotional sharing on his part; then, slowly, they smoothed out once again and reached out for Castiel, as if in silent asking for his support.

"...you were kind of right though," Dean sighed in the meanwhile, his cheeks reddening slightly at the admission. "It _did_ help…"

"I hoped it would," the dragon smiled quietly, watching with approval as his hoard-mate's soul extended further to wrap around his body where their shoulders were still pressed against one another.

"It was embarrassing as hell," the prince added with a wince, "I don't think...I don't think Dad expected it, to be honest, and I kind of surprised him into telling me what exactly he's planning to do."

Seeing Dean's Adam's apple bob in a sign of buzzing nervousness, the dragon took the other's hand, and was pleased to be rewarded with the sight of his hoard-mate's fingers curling around his own.

Against all expectations, Anenilymellial's books seemed to be for the most part right about how humans liked to be treated by their mates, about what kind of gestures seemed to assuage their fears, and made of him a proper mate that could cater to their needs.

Although he still felt partially puzzled by the fact that Dean seemed most responsive to the attentions that knights and princes usually reserved for princesses, rather than the other way around.

"Cas…" again his hoard-mate swallowed on nothing, before he hesitantly continued, "Cas, he said...he said he's never doubted my trustworthiness. He said he was just trying to…"

Castiel wasn't entirely sure if the other looked more relieved or ready to bolt, but he knew the right response for this one in either cases: he squeezed the human's hand and slowly leaned in to press a kiss on his temple.

From this up close, it was easy for him to see the way his hoard-mate's eyes were filling with wet, contrasting emotions, as easy as it was reading the way his soul was shaking with hope, happiness, and an undercurrent of fear that what he was about to say was too good to be true.

"...t-to do what I asked for: he was trying to give me a chance to step down as crown prince if I wanted to."

"That is good news," Castiel hummed, pleased that he had been right when judging his hoard-mate's father as the kind of parent who would be unwilling to put their goals before his hatchling's happiness.

While Dean was not a hatchling anymore, it seemed that, by human standards, as long as he lived in the same nest, he would still be doted on as such.

"Yeah, that's…" the prince let out a breathless laugh, resuming his meal when the dragon pushed another piece of bread in his free hand, "That's awesome," he added with a sheepish grin before ducking his head in embarrassment.

It took him a few bites and a long swallow from the water canteen before he continued with his narration.

"Dad said he talked about it with Sam, and Sammy said he...he didn't mind if we switched our jobs, since he likes politics anyways, and he knows I've more of a militaristic mind than he does."

"Mom apparently also suggested that once Dad retires, he lets Sammy take care of the general aspects of running the kingdom, while I take care of the Knights and take charge in case of a war or military conflict."

Humming in understanding, the dragon clarified "You would both be kings?"

"In a way, I think," the prince nodded after swallowing the last piece of his meal. He looked far more at ease now: his shoulders were more relaxed, and a small shy smile was tugging at the corners of his lips, making the dragon itch to pull his hoard-mate in his lap and never let go of him again.

Sometimes it was very difficult to distinguish between hoarding instincts and mating instincts when it came to Dean.

"They are still thinking about how that will be supposed to work exactly, but I…" he rubbed his face while he added the last part, "I mean, if Sammy's going to take half of the job on himself, I'm sure not taking his part of the credit for it: he should be recognized for his work properly."

"That seems fair," Castiel concurred, watching with approval the way Dean's soul lit up at his encouragement. "I'm glad to hear you came to an understanding with your family."

The prince's lips parted in another shy grin, and the dragon decided he had attended to his duties as mate long enough for today, and he could now be allowed some hoarding time in return.

Without letting his hoard-mate enough time to protest, he pulled the human closer, until Dean was sitting in his lap, and he wrapped his arms around the other's waist. He peered at the green flakes of his soul and let out a pleased warble when they gravitated closer to where his hand met the prince's body.

"Your soul is so beautiful," the dragon praised aloud while he brushed the exposed skin of Dean's neck with the tip of a finger, earning a brilliant laugh in return to what his hoard-mate called his "gushing tone."

"Hoarding time?" the prince sounded amused when he posed his query, the grin on his face growing wider when Castiel nodded.

"Yes," the latter confirmed. "It's very difficult to resist you when your soul keeps shining so bright."

"Oh, so now it's my fault if you can't keep your paws to yourself, uh?" with another laugh, Dean turned in Castiel's lap until his back was resting against the dragon's chest, head thrown back against his shoulder.

"There. Now you can pet me to your heart's content."

Castiel knew he was being teased, but he couldn't find it in himself to care when he was being allowed to spread his hands on him, one on the soft unarmored belly and the other on his firm thigh.

With a sigh of approval he let his sight shift completely. Dean's body fell out of focus and the brightness of his soul intensified, bubbling to the surface as if it had been waiting with trepidation to have all his attention for itself.

A low coo of reassurance made its way out of Castiel's throat before he could stop it.

Of course his hoard-mate's soul had all his focus.

Of course he would give it all the attention it needed.

With a gentle brush of his hand up Dean's chest and down again on his belly, he couldn't help another quiet warbled of excitement when green flecks followed his fingers to crowd around the tips, buzzing happily against his skin. They were like tiny emerald-colored bees landing on him to take in his scent before taking off again to land somewhere else, unable to resist his closeness to them.

They were mesmerizing in the way they didn't hesitate to touch him and constantly tried to catch his eye to show off their lovely shine.

Sighing happily, he tilted his head to rest his chin on his hoard-mate's shoulder, eyes closing to half-mast while his body relaxed in the knowledge that the other was _safe_ in his arms.

"When you make that face, I kinda wish I could see your soul too."

The prince's low chuckle made him drag his eyes away from those precious green bits now swirling and dancing in teasing spirals in accordance with the other's amused tone.

"It wouldn't be the same," he quietly replied, his voice coming out mellow and agreeable even to his own ears, "dragons don't have souls the way humans do."

"You sound pretty human to me," the other teased him, bumping at the side of his head with his nose.

"It's not a matter of intelligence," Castiel replied, eyes shifting again to admire with rapt attention the two maelstrom of green and silver that whirled where the other's eyes were normally located, "it's a matter of how your bodies and ours are made: humans have a soul, but they have no natural magic to speak of – they might learn how to use it, but it's not a part of them. It is akin to the way you learned how to fight with a sword, but the sword is not inherently a part of you."

The emerald flecks around his hoard-mate's eyes swirled in wider spirals in a sign that the dragon was used to associate to piqued curiosity.

It was far easier to understand Dean's mood when watching his soul than it was to interpret his expressions: dragons only seldom used their faces the way the prince's kin did, and at times he had difficulty distinguishing one from another.

Souls were far clearer to interpret in his opinion: a lighter color meant a positive mood and openness to interaction, a darker color meant worry, frustration, or sadness; wide, lively swirls meant excitement and an unspoken incentive to continue or reiterate the cause of that reaction, while tightness and uncertainty around the edges meant closeness, disgust, or the wish to escape the current situation.

Sometimes he wondered how humans managed to communicate properly: Dragons had wings and tails to cue each other about their mood, but his hoard-mate's people only could use their mouth, nose and eyes.

"Souls are impossible to destroy and they exist in a limited number," he continued, voice slowly going back to its usual deep tone that Dean seemed to like so much.

"When a human dies, their soul reaches what you consider the otherworld and is purified in order for it to be used again in the next cycle: Magic filters any negative experience or lingering feelings that might still be attached to it, and it sends it off to be born again. For the most part these dark bits of the soul are destroyed, but sometimes small specks of blackness are left behind and they float together until they gain consciousness and make what you would call a daemon."

A tendril of soul near Dean's face curled in distress at the mention of those creatures, and it pleased the dragon to see that his hoard-mate mistrusted and despised them after what had happened with his brother.

With a coo of encouragement Castiel let his finger brush against the other's neck to smooth the tenseness out.

"Magical creatures such as dragons have no soul in the way I just explained it to you," he continued, distracting the prince from further lingering in those dark memories.

"We are born out of magic – we are, in a way, an _expression_ of Magic. Every part of us, from the biggest bone to the smallest scale is made of magic, and when we die, it goes back to the world, seeps into its fabric, and waits for a time when it is needed once again: there is no part of us that survives after our death, we're just dismantled and re-assembled to create something else."

"You make it sound like magic has a mind of its own..."

Again Dean's soul looked curious to know more, but there was also a blurry layer of confusion clouding his feelings.

Castiel supposed it was fair, since he had the impression that humans didn't know much about how their souls and magic interacted: for the most part, they seemed to learn through trial and error, and since they were unable to see the world in the same way dragons did, their reasonings on the matter were more likely to be wild guesses rather than real understanding about how everything worked.

"Magic is very good at balancing itself, it doesn't need a consciousness to achieve that," he gently corrected, wanting to fill his hoard-mate with all the knowledge that humans seemed to lack.

Castiel had noticed how, in spite of his claims that he had always strongly disliked the private lessons he had been forced to follow in his younger years, Dean also had a craving for learning as much as possible about a subject when it managed to pique his interest.

He didn't dislike learning itself, it was the aspect of being forced into it that seemed to frustrate him greatly, and so, when the prince asked for more of his insight, Castiel could do nothing but oblige.

"In general, Magic only needs a light nudge to work: if there isn't enough magic in the world, it will start a process to generate more; if there is enough, no new magic will be allowed to grow," he elaborated, waiting for the prince to hum in understanding before continuing.

"It is the reason why our eggs not always bear fruit: it needs to be the right time, and there need to be a certain lack of magic in the world before one of our eggs is allowed to hatch."

"They could go unborn for a long time?" the idea seemed to distress his hoard-mate at least for a few moments, and Castiel supposed it made sense considering how short human lives were.

"I've never heard of them taking more than a few hundred years to hatch," he answered, and he couldn't help a tiny smile of amusement when he saw the way the green flecks in the other's soul suddenly turned brighter with his surprise.

"But our eggs don't really spoil," he added, "and waiting doesn't do them any harm provided no-one crushes them in the meantime."

"It's a bit…" there was still some form of uncertainty in Dean's demeanor, his voice coming out a bit choked while he tried his best to assimilate the idea of waiting for centuries to be born.

"I guess it's kind of nice to know for sure that there is a reason why you were born though," he quietly admitted in the end, soul curling up in embarrassment and, when Castiel switched back to his other sight, he was blessed with the vision of Dean's freckled cheeks going red with a blush.

The dragon was about to lean in and press his lips against that brightly-colored skin, but he stopped short when he heard his hoard-mate continue more quietly.

"...that you are needed in the world, I mean..."

Castiel paused.

This wasn't a new behavior on the other's part: in the time they had known each other, the dragon had noted in more than one occasion the tendency that the prince had towards self-deprecation.

It had been bothering him since the other first admitted believing that he wasn't a good enough prince for his people, and by now Castiel was certain that the thought kept festering inside his hoard-mate's mind due to some kind of irrational refusal that he could ever be anything more than barely acceptable at what he did.

It made the other jumpy and closed-off when it came to admitting his feelings, and it made him overwork himself in a wild attempt at compensating for whatever flaws he seemed to perceive about himself.

The dragon knew that the shaky relationship between Dean and his father was partially to be blamed for these unhealthy thoughts, and he had tried to compensate for them as much as possible by letting his hoard-mate know how much he was appreciated, but there seemed to still be a considerable doubt in the other's mind when it came to his own value.

"Cas?"

"Humm…" the dragon peered at the prince's face and found it scrunched up in a concerned frown due to his prolonged silence.

How could his hoard-mate ever think that he was anything less than perfectly fine when he so readily inquired about Castiel's own health?

It made no sense, and he wondered if this was the counterweight of being allowed to live in the safety of one's parents' nest well past into adulthood. He had certainly never heard of any dragon having so many doubts about their worth before, and he wondered if it was something inherently human to feel.

He really needed to address this issue more throughly.

He was dragged back from his musing when the delicious smell of silver reached his senses, and its source was shoved under his nose to attract his attention.

"Coin?" the look on his hoard-mate's face was mischievous while he offered him the small piece of metal, and an amused huff left Castiel's lips at the sight of a self-satisfied grin and sparkling green eyes.

"Yes," the dragon answered, "I apologize for my silence, I was distracted."

"I noticed," the other chuckled, pressing the round edge of the coin against his mouth, and then hummed in appreciation when it parted under the light pressure to let it slide inside.

After making sure to let his lips brush again his hoard-mate's fingers, knowing that Dean found that kind of contact exciting, Castiel allowed himself to close his eyes in bliss at the taste of silver melting on his tongue.

It was tingling, delicious, and metallic, and the fact that his hoard-mate sacrificed a piece of his hoard to feed him, made the dragon all the more gratified: he knew that for humans it didn't work the same way that it did for his kin, but the thought that Dean kept those coins around with the specific purpose of spoiling him when he felt like it, was enough to make his inner magic vibrate with delight.

When soft lips pressed against his own, he opened his eyes to the lovely sight of a spray of freckles on a blushing background and a pair of green irises peering at him with shy affection. It would have been impossible for him to resist, and so the dragon reached out to frame his hoard-mate's face with his hands, keeping him still while he deepened the kiss.

"...ngh...your mouth tastes weird…" the human complained when they separated once more, but he didn't seem to particularly mind, as he leaned in once more for another, brief press of their lips.

"I'm not sure you should kiss me when there is still metal in my mouth," the dragon considered, letting the other have his fill of those human gestures of affection, but gently refusing to allow him further access to his mouth for now.

"It's fine, I don't think there was much of it anyways," the prince shrugged, tugging him closer for a last kiss before finally letting him go.

"But I should probably go, before my father sends a search party after me," he grudgingly admitted, face scrunching up in disappointment while he pulled himself back on his feet and started to gather their things.

The dragon followed his example more slowly, and then titled his head in curiosity at the other's words.

"Does he not know that you're with me?" he asked, watching his hoard-mate pause to peer back at him with an amused huff.

"Dude, he does," the prince replied, with a short resigned laughter.

"That's kind of the point," he added with a shake of his head, and then, in one fluid motion, he pulled his satchel over his shoulder.

  
******

  
Generally speaking, Castiel was not prone to curiosity.

It was a thing that had always baffled his parents in his hatchlinghood as it stood out starkly against his kin's average behavior. Mirror Dragons, more so than any other dragon, liked to explore and learn as much as possible about the world. They liked to see, smell, and touch firsthand anything that caught their attention, and they loved to be introduced to new things for the first time.

His parents explained to him like an itch settling under their scales when they were cooped up in their nest for too long, and Gryblilkalmyel explained to him as Mirror Dragons being infamous among other dragonkin for their volatility and wanderlust.

Castiel never felt any of these things.

Castiel liked to live a quiet life in his nest, to enjoy his hoard, and come out on clear days to warm his scales under the sun.

There was no itch in him to speak of, and it had worried his parents up to the time when he finally left their mating nest to find a nice cave of his own to make his new home.

It had not struck him when he flew over the snow-covered planes of the north.

It had not struck him when Anenilymellial tried to approach him that first time to warn him that territory was already claimed as her own.

It had not struck him when he finally moved further south and found the mountain that would host his current nest.

He had only made sure that the stone was solid, that the forests were well stocked with preys, and that the entrance of his cave would be difficult to access for anyone other than himself.

Castiel was, in general, not prone to curiosity, but when, for the second time that day, he heard people talk about him and Dean in the span of the same conversation, he paused to listen nonetheless.

"...and Maddy said that Margaret swore she saw the Prince and his pretty friend on her way back from Jacob's mill. They were having lunch together under that big ash tree just down the road to her house."

There were two women chattering in one of the less frequented corridors of the keep, seemingly taking a break from their duties to catch up on – or further spread – the most recent piece of gossip the castle's rumor mill could boast.

It was kind of amazing how quickly news was passed around, considering that Castiel and his hoard-mate had parted ways only an hour before.

"And they didn't notice her?" the second woman asked. She didn't look particularly convinced by the story her companion was relaying to her, a light frown creasing her forehead while she pursed her lips in hesitation. She was absently playing with a blond lock of hair that had slipped in front of her face.

"That was the best part!" the first woman replied, dark eyes sparkling with the kind of excitement that betrayed her younger age. "She said they didn't as much as stirred because the Prince was busy sitting on Pretty Eyes' lap and being cuddled to death, and she just kind of quickly passed by to avoid catching their attention."

"...all right, yeah...that's kind of nice…"

"I told you!" the dark-eyed woman chirped more loudly, "They're adorable! The Prince is so happy whenever he's around, and Pretty Eyes seems to like him back a lot too. I mean, he's so shy around people, but when the Prince is with him he's all chatty and smiley. It's so cute!"

Castiel wasn't entirely sure anyone had ever called him "cute" or "shy" before.

It was a novel experience.

"So, did Margaret already tell the others or…?" the blond woman huffed in amusement when her friend giggled.

"I don't know, I think she was planning to tell them later at the meet-up…"

"What meet-up?" Castiel inquired, as he stepped out of the corner he had been standing in, to make his presence known.

Two pairs of eyes darted to him, equally startled, but while the brunette woman immediately blushed in embarrassment when she realized who had caught them in their gossip-filled break, her blond companion's face seemed to lit up with the possibility for mischief.

"The meet-ups! The usual ones!" she grinned, unrepentant, and the dragon wondered why she seemed to think that he should know what she was talking about.

This seemed to be related to the encounter he had that same morning at the stables – the boy and the girl were talking about some kind of reunion as well – and he narrowed his eyes while he switched his sight to ascertain the state of their souls.

The brunette's soul was pale yellow with brass-colored streaks waving gently over her heart in patterns like grass brushed by wind, its edges curled in awkwardness but showing no hint of malice.

In contrast, her friend's soul was bright and fierce like red flames, and popping with orange sparks that showed no sign of restrain. She seemed excited about his presence, as her soul was spread wide in approval and welcome.

"About Dean?" he asked, only for more of her sparks to fly about in thrilled confirmation.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, "They're always about Prince Dean on Thursday!"

Castiel wondered, for just an instant, if he should inquire about the other days of the week.

"Are you planning to damage him?" he said instead, peering at them to make sure their souls showed no sign of an attempt at clouding their intentions with lies.

"What?!" this time it was the sand-yellow woman who intervened, her eyes widening in horrified realization of what the dragon had been worrying about.

"Oh, no, no, no! We would never do that! He's the crown prince! Everyone loves him!"

The way her soul tightened in refusal at that prospective spoke volumes about her sincerity, much more than her words did, so Castiel nodded in understanding and accepted her outcry of indignation for what it was.

"Then what do you need these meetings for?"

"It's just…" she seemed to hesitate before continuing, looking once again embarrassed at the idea of discussing that topic with him, "We like to talk about him? And what he did during the day, and things like that..."

"About how we're all extremely disappointed that he doesn't ask us to service him in his rooms…" her friend jumped in, raising a scandalized gasp in return.

"Alice!"

"What?" the fire-red woman shrugged, amusement bending her lips at the other's expression of shock. "It's true. I mean, it's not like he actually tried to approach any of the girls so far – we would _know_ within half an hour if he did – and the guys become all flustered as soon as you even try to address the issue, so..."

"He's the crown prince!" trying to shush the bluntness of her friend, the sand-yellow woman moved closer to her and lowered her voice.

"You shouldn't talk about him like that! Especially not in front of…" she whispered urgently and made some kind of gesture with her hand that Castiel decided to interpret was meant to point at him in some way.

Tilting his head on one side, he peered at her with curiosity, not entirely sure why she felt embarrassed: he already knew about Dean's preferences, as much as he remembered all the times that his hoard-mate had lamented the fact that he seemed to attract a whole lot of unwanted attention.

He saw no reason why that topic should be treated as if it were some kind of secret to be kept at all costs.

"I don't mind," he offered in the end, watching while the fire-red soul of her more brazen companion popped with new bright sparks of excitement. "It's my understanding that's the normal reaction people have to him."

"See? He doesn't mind!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with glee and her soul reaching out even further towards Castiel, as if to underline her approval at his reply. An audacious tendril even stretched as far as to lightly brush his shoulder.

It felt warm and friendly, and the comforting sound of crackling fire reached him in a way that didn't require the use of his ears.

He supposed he didn't mind the contact as long as she didn't try to touch him with her physical body as well.

"So what's your name anyways?" she asked, new sparks popping all around her chest when she directed all her attention towards him.

"Castiel," he answered, and realized with just a short pause of bewilderment that this was the first time any human other than Dean had asked him such a simple question.

"All right, Castiel, wanna come to the meet-up with us?"

He blinked, peering at her with curiosity, not entirely sure what her intentions were in posing that offer: it seemed exceedingly convenient, that she would be so willing to extend such an invitation right after he expressed his concerns about the reason for such gatherings.

"What are you doing?" her friend hissed once again, the sandy yellow of her soul becoming muddled with ash-colored streaks of distress.

"He can't come with us! He's the Prince's lover!" she was trying to pull her bold companion away now, as if in an unconscious attempt at putting some distance between Castiel and the two of them.

She only received an unconcerned shrug for her effort.

"Just thought he might have more stories about the Prince to tell us..."

Ah, so it was that.

"I've no previous experience of such gatherings, but, given his usual reticence when it comes to talking about him, I believe Dean would not approve of me doing anything of the sort when he has no chance for rebuttal," he replied, hoping that his tone would come across as polite rather than dismissive, like he inadvertently tended to sound at times.

"It's fine, you can still listen to us and see we don't mean any harm by it," the fire-red woman shrugged, not in the least discouraged by his words, sparks still popping away near her heart with merriment and excitement.

"I'm Alice by the way, and this worrywart here is Rose."

Castiel supposed by the way her soul reached out again to playfully flick at his shoulder, that he would be participating in this gathering after all.

"Hello."

  
******

  
There were a great many things that Castiel didn't understand about humans.

It was becoming more apparent to him the more he had contact with them, that their seemingly inexhaustible need to coo in large groups over a shared interest was one of them.

Granted, he could appreciate how much they all seemed to like his hoard-mate: it might make him a bit wary that they were all so ready to speak up about their willingness to nest with him, but he also firmly reminded himself that they were not dragons and their intentions had nothing to do with wanting to steal part of his hoard away from him.

The main issue were the _noises_.

Castiel wasn't entirely sure if they realized how often they let out high-pitched _AW_ sounds when discussing about the apparent abundance – according to them – adorableness of his hoard-mate.

It was starting to make his eardrums pound.

"Confused?" Alice asked, taking a sit at his side. She had been chatting with a younger boy with a lilac-striped soul for about half an hour, before turning here attention back to him.

"Is this entertaining to you?" the dragon returned, sincerely unable to understand what the purpose of this gathering was.

"Sure!" she chuckled, "There isn't much else to do anyways when we're not working: we might as well chat about something _pleasant_."

If the unrepentant grin on her face weren't telling enough, Castiel would have understood exactly what kind of appreciation she was directing – again – at his hoard-mate by Rose's warningly calling her name.

"Alice!"

"Still only stating the truth!" the cheerful woman threw back with a loud laugh, while her friend crossed the room in a few urgent steps, eyes darting in Castiel's way to make sure that he wasn't offended by the words so boldly stated in his presence.

He didn't particularly mind.

As long as Alice didn't show any actual intention to steal Dean from him, he found that her envy of their relationship pleased the same part of his instincts that cooed in delight when he was allowed to watch his hoard-mate safe with the rest of his hoard.

"You like Dean quite a bit," he noted, watching the way Rose was trying once again to shush her friend from saying anything else inappropriate about their prince.

"We all do," Alice readily agreed, her soul popping with bright sparks of confirmation, "he's a pretty great Prince. Good and fair, and would give his right arm to protect every single one of us..."

"So you do know that," the dragon tilted his head, watching the two of them more carefully.

Another bright laugh followed his words while Alice retorted, "why wouldn't we?"

 _He seems to think he has something to prove to you, that he has to find a way to show that he cares about his people_ , Castiel thought but refrained to say aloud, knowing that his hoard-mate wouldn't be pleased if he shared such a private detail about him.

"You need to be more explicit about what you think of him," he finally stated, opting to give a friendly suggestion rather than risking addressing an issue that was not for them to be privy to.

"But that would be weird…" Rose hesitantly replied, her cheeks once again colored by a light blush, "he's the Prince! He has better things to do than listening to us…"

"Dean strives to make those he considers 'his people' happy," he corrected, "Why wouldn't he want to know that he's doing a good job at it?"

Castiel watched with approval as both the women's eyes lit with understanding.

  
******

  
"This is weird."

"Humm…?" Castiel absently encouraged his hoard-mate to elaborate. He was comfortably sitting on the Dean's bed, back leaning against a pillow and a book the other had picked for him in his lap.

"It's the third time that a servant stops by to give me a pie," he heard his hoard-mate reply while he shuffled closer. "A _whole_ pie. I mean I'm not complaining – there is never enough pie! – but I'm starting to feel like I'm missing something…"

Castiel's lips twitched as he kept his eyes studiously focused on the lines of words marking the pages in front of him.

"Perhaps they just wanted to show you how much they appreciate what you do for them?" he quietly suggested, watching, out of the corner of his eye, as the other's face slacked in bafflement.

"And they all decided to do that at the same time?"

The dragon wasn't going to address that particular question, but he was saved from giving his opinion by the sound of knocking against the door, soon followed by his hoard-mate's footsteps tracing back their way to find out who the newcomer was.

The book in his lap was overall not unpleasant to read, as Dean had chosen for him an account of several treasures that were said to be hidden in various perilous places in the northern lands. One of the books he kept in his nests addressed the same topics, and it was interesting to see the differences and common points between them.

"Oh, hey Rose, good to see you! What can I do for—are those _two_ pies?!"

Castiel hid a pleased smile behind his book.

**Author's Note:**

> I did promise to go back to fluff and crack, right? 8D
> 
> My fanfiction and fanart Tumblr: <http://dragon-scribbling-scribbles.tumblr.com/>
> 
> My personal Tumblr: <http://dragoneyes.tumblr.com/>


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